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not bore my readers by dwelling long on matters which (however they may have annoyed me) cannot entertain or interest them.
“I regret following up one instance of Mr. Gilliland's inaccuracy immediately with another; but he asserts, in his Dramatic Mirror,' that J. Bannister, in the season 1778, made his appearance for the benefit of his father, on the boards of Old Druiry.' In contradiction to the foregoing statement a document now lies before me, I transcribe it verbatim:
“ . First appearance, at the Haymarket, for my father's benefit, 1778, in The Apprentice. First appearance at Drury-lane, 1779, in Zaphna, in Mahomet. Took leave of the stage at Drury-lane, Thursday, June 1st, 1815. Garrick instructed me in the four first parts I played, -- the Apprentice; Zaphna (Mahomet); Dorilas (Merope); and Achmet (Barbarossa). Jack Bannister, to his dear friend George Colman. June 30th, 1828.'?
These memoranda, under the circumstances, are curious and affecting.- Death has gathered in his harvest, and both the men are gone.
Of Mr. Colman's delightful manners and conversational powers no words can give any adequate idea : with all the advantages of extensive reading, a general knowledge of mankind, and an inexhaustible fund of wit and humour, he blended a joyousness of expression, a kindness of feeling, and a warmth of manner, which rendered him the much-sought companion of every circle of society in which he chose to mix.
Of his literary talents all the world can judge ; but it is only those who have known him in private life who can appreciate the qualities which we despair of being able justly to describe.
IMPROMPTU BY THE LATE GEORGE COLMAN.
About a year since, a young lady begged this celebrated wit to write some verses in her album: he shook his head; but, good-naturedly promising to try, at once extemporised the following,-most probably his last written and poetical jest.
My muse and I, ere youth and spirits fled,
old lass to bed,
Oh! the balloon, the great balloon!
very soon after, folks changed their tune:
Turks, heretics, infidels, jumpers, and Jews,
Here's news come at last! Here's news come at last !
Oh ! fie! Mister Nokes,--for shame, Mister Nokes !
whole story 's a hoax !
« Oh! what shall we do? Oh! where will it end?
Huzzah! huzzah ! one and eight-pence to pay
Dear me! what a treat for a juvenile fête !
Since, there they 'll unfold, what we want to be told,
And there they 'll be seen—they 'll be all to be seen!
Then they'll play up a tune in the Royal Saloon,
Andy Rooney was a fellow who had the most singularly ingenious knack of doing every thing the wrong way; disappointment awaited on all affairs in which he bore a part, and destruction was at his fingers' ends : so the nick-name the neighbours stuck upon him was Handy Andy, and the jeering jingle pleased them.
Andy's entrance into this world was quite in character with his after achievements, for he was nearly the death of his mother. She survived, however, to bave herself clawed almost to death while her darling babby was in arms, for he would not take his nourishment from the parent fount unless he had one of his little red fists twisted into his mother's hair, which he dragged till he made her roar; while he diverted the pain by scratching her till the blood came, with the other. Nevertheless she swore he was “the loveliest and sweetest craythur the sun ever shined upon ;" and when he was able to run about and wield a little stick, and smash every thing breakable belonging to her, she only praised his precocious powers, and used to ask, “ Did ever any one see a darlin' of his age handle a stick so bowld as he did ?”
Andy grew up in mischief and the admiration of his mammy; but, to do him justice, he never meant harm in the course of his life, and was most anxious to offer his services on all occasions to any one who would accept them; but they were only those who had not already proved Andy's peculiar powers.
There was a farmer hard by in this happy state of ignorance, named Owen Doyle, or, as he was familiarly called, Owny na Coppal, or, “ Owen of the Horses," because he bred many of these animals, and sold them at the neighbouring fairs; and Andy one day offered his services to Owny when he was in want of some one to drive up a horse to his house from a distant “ bottom,” as low grounds by a river side are always called in Ireland.
“Oh, he's wild, Andy, and you'd never be able to ketch him,” said Owny.—“Throth, an' I 'll engage I 'll ketch him if you
I never seen the horse I couldn't ketch, sir," said Andy.
“Why, you little spridhogue, if he took to runnin' over the long bottom, it ’ud be more than a day's work for you to folly him.” “Oh, but he won't run."
Why won't he run ?”—“ Bekase I won't make him run.” “How can you help it ?”—“ I'll soother him.”
“Well, you 're a willin' brat, any how; and so go, and God speed you !” said Owny.
“Just gi' me a wisp o' hay an'a han'ful iv oats,” said Andy, “ if I should have to coax him.”_-“Sartinly,” said Owny, who
'll let me go